


A Tolerance for Repetition

by lasersheith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Shiro's birthday, canonverse, season 8 whomst? never heard of her, side Allura/Lance, they're married because i'm gay and soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29767089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasersheith/pseuds/lasersheith
Summary: Shiro's birthday is coming up and he's impossible to get anything for. Keith bears the brunt of their friends scrambling for ideas.“Look, we promise it’ll be quick,” Matt says. Apparently they’re doing good-cop-bad-cop. “Just tell us where he is and we’ll be out of his hair.”“He…” Lance hesitates. “Died?”The smacking sound is either Matt hitting his own forehead or Pidge hitting Lance’s. There’s no squeal, so Keith figures it’s probably the former. He has to give Lance the points for loyalty at least.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 96





	A Tolerance for Repetition

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to [avidbeader](https://twitter.com/avidbeader) on twitter for this prompt! I had so much fun. 
> 
> (also go check out [her works](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidbeader/pseuds/avidbeader) if you haven't!)

Takashi Shirogane has many virtues. He’s brilliant, understanding, almost infinitely patient, an incredible Admiral, an even more incredible husband, and almost impossible to dislike. One thing he isn’t, however, is easy to buy a birthday gift for. 

When Griffin asks Keith for ideas at the mess as they’re both getting their pre-briefing coffee, it’s easy to shrug off. “Probably just wants you to take a day off of filling his inbox with crap to sign. Take some initiative. Write him an email about how inspirational he is or whatever.” 

The “and leave me alone” was both heavily implied and disgruntledly inferred. 

Hunk is harder to ignore. For starters, he brings baked goods to every meeting that starts before 0800 because he’s a saint, but he’s also learned exactly which of Keith’s buttons to push and precisely how. 

“So I know you said vanilla cake, strawberry icing,” Hunk starts and Keith pinches the bridge of his nose. “But did you mean like, strawberry-extract-from-the-can gross icing, because I know you guys are secretly gremlins and if I’m gonna go all out on the fresh strawberry puree buttercream I need to know he’ll like it.”

If Keith had to pick a best friend other than Shiro, it would probably be Hunk. With that in mind, instead of screaming about how little that matters, he takes a deep breath and calms himself. “Shiro loves your cooking, so he’ll like whatever you make. But he only eats sweets like 4 times a year and it always involves fresh strawberries, so I think that’s what you should go with.” He doesn’t quite manage _supportive_ or _nice,_ but his tone at least isn’t _annoyed._

He loves Shiro. More than anything in the universe. The days leading up to Shiro’s birthday, though, are always like this. Every year. 

He gets another cup of coffee. 

Thankfully none of the Garrison’s best and brightest young pilots bother him about what to get the Admiral during his morning flight class. All the extra drills and Keith’s slightly more rigorous adherence to proper radio protocols today might have something to do with it. Who can say, really? 

By the time the class has all of their ships back in the hangars with post-flight checks complete, Keith is starving. Normally he’d get lunch with Shiro around now, but Iverson has him stuck in the world’s longest and most boring Infrastructure Improvement Planning meeting. Keith isn’t exactly sure how he managed to stay off the list of attendees for that particular slice of hell, but he knows he has his husband to thank for it. 

He’s waiting in line at the officer’s mess, trying to decide if he should eat in his office or go hide in Black until his next class starts, when Lance playfully bumps his shoulder. 

“Hey grumpy, what’s with the scowl? Thursday again?” Lance teases and it actually makes Keith laugh a little. 

Somehow Lance has managed to claw his way up from most annoying classmate, to most annoying teammate, to decent friend sometimes, to ranking right up there with Hunk. Keith attributes 90% of his personal growth to Allura. 

“If you see Pidge or Matt please tell them I died,” Keith grumbles, handing his badge to the friendly young officer at the scanner.

“Roger that.” Lance hands his badge over as well and cranes his neck to the patio. Keith follows not even reluctantly. 

It’s a nice day and Keith is thankful for the fresh air. The middle of winter here in the desert is never really that cold but there’s a brisk breeze and it feels good on his face. He’s been spending too much time cooped up inside lately and he knows that’s part of why he’s so irritable today, but there’s always so much to do on base it can hardly be helped. 

Lance digs into what would have been a reasonably healthy salad, if not for the mountain of bacon bits swimming in what Keith can only assume is honey mustard, and starts talking with his mouth full. “Got any big plans for the hubby this weekend?” 

Keith knows his friend is just making polite conversation but somewhere deep inside it feels like a betrayal. “Hoverbikes, stargazing, probably camping.” It isn’t what they do _every_ year… just most of them. 

Lance manages to blow a raspberry without covering Keith in dressing, but it’s a near thing. “Laaaame.” He points his fork accusingly at Keith. “Where’s the pizzazz? Excitement? _Romance!”_

Keith rolls his eyes as Lance wipes the yellow-brown smear off of his uniform where his dramatic fork-flinging has earned him a new stain right where the lower half of his shirt turns to white. 

“Shiro doesn’t care about that stuff. He just wants us to spend time together.” A small kernel of doubt starts to gnaw at Keith’s stomach. “Don’t even know what else we would do.” 

There’s still a greasy splotch on Lance’s uniform, but he’s already abandoned any effort to fix it. “Why don’t you guys take a for-real vacation? Like a second honeymoon type of thing. Go somewhere with beaches and dune-buggies and drinks with fancy little umbrellas. Allura and I can even watch Kosmo, you know he loves the kids.” 

It’s not a bad thought. Keith can’t even remember the last time either of them took a sick day, much less actually got away together. 

“Wish you woulda told me that a week ago.” Keith stabs his own salad just a little too hard. “No way Iverson okays the leave with two days’ notice.” 

Lance scoffs and waves his hand in the air between them. At least it’s not the one holding his fork this time. “You let ol’ Lancey Lance take care of that one, buddy. I still got my tricks when it comes to Iverson.” 

“Iverson hates you,” Keith points out with a laugh. 

Lance grins. “Exactly! He’ll say or sign anything to get me out of his office. I didn’t say they weren’t _dirty_ tricks.” 

They’re both laughing now and it’s the best Keith’s felt all week. He doesn’t get mushy about it, but he does give Lance an earnest, if gruff, _thanks,_ which Lance rolls his eyes at. The discussion shifts to the newest class to make it to live-flight drills when Lance suddenly stops and reaches across the table to shove Keith’s shoulder hard enough to send him sprawling off the bench. 

“Holt sighting!” Lance hisses before Keith can even get his wits in order enough to ask what the hell just happened. “Get behind the trash can! Quick!” 

Keith runs like he hasn’t run since the fight with Honerva. It’s been more than a few years and he’s in nowhere near as good of shape, but he manages to duck behind the can without either Holt seeming to notice him, and more importantly, without tearing a hamstring. 

He can’t see them approach Lance, but somehow he can feel it in his soul. Shrinking into as tight a ball as he can manage, Keith strains his ears to hear the conversation. 

“Extra hungry today, Lance?” Pidge asks suspiciously. Keith can picture the flat look on her face perfectly. 

There’s a scraping sound that Keith can only imagine is Lance quickly sliding Keith’s plastic bowl across the table toward himself. “You know it! Gotta keep my strength up for chasing two toddlers around all night!” 

It’s a terrible lie. He knows it, Lance knows it, and the Holts definitely know it. 

“Look, we promise it’ll be quick,” Matt says. Apparently they’re doing good-cop-bad-cop. “Just tell us where he is and we’ll be out of his hair.” 

“He…” Lance hesitates. “Died?” 

The smacking sound is either Matt hitting his own forehead or Pidge hitting Lance’s. There’s no squeal, so Keith figures it’s probably the former. He has to give Lance the points for loyalty at least. 

He’s just about to stand up, mostly because his knees are starting to ache, when a small shadow blocks out the light above him. Keith almost jumps back and tries to run away, but when he tenses his legs he realizes his left foot is completely numb, so he stands up with a sigh instead. 

“Hiding in the trash from two of your best friends in the entire galaxy,” Pidge tuts. “That’s low, Shirogane. Real low.” 

Keith sighs again, this time louder and more dramatically. “You said the last three times would be the last time.” 

Matt makes an indignant noise somewhere between a gasp and squawk. “We’re trying to do something nice for your husband! The least you could do is help us.” 

“He doesn’t need a new arm. He doesn’t _want_ a new arm. Every time you guys give him a new arm, it ends up in a box in our closet. You’re lucky we both only own two pairs of shoes.” Keith feels a little guilty when he sees how their faces fall. “As long as this one is _actually lighter_ this time,” he relents. “His shoulder’s been bugging him lately.” 

It’s close enough to an apology for the Holts and their bright smiles gleam back into place like they’d never left. They go on and on about bells and whistles he’s sure Shiro will never use, but will pretend to love out of politeness. Keith stresses that taking care of Shiro’s non-metallic body parts is the most important thing, but he isn’t sure they really hear him as they go on and on about all of the practical applications of laser fingers. 

Keith’s mind is far away, drifting out of his body as he wonders if they’d notice him just walk away. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to find out, because Allura strides into the courtyard, kisses her husband on the cheek briefly, and throws an arm around Keith’s shoulders. He’s never been more grateful to see her. 

“So sorry to interrupt,” she says sweetly with her most patient smile. The Holts don’t even pause their discussion to greet her. “But I can’t teach my hand to hand class without Keith and we both need to stretch beforehand.” 

The door is closing behind them and Keith can still hear their friends debating without even having noticed his retreat. He lets out a long breath and smiles up at Allura as they walk. 

“I got there as quickly as I could manage,” Allura says, her calm tone soothing especially after the ambush he was just caught up in. “Lance texted me a few minutes ago but I was on the phone with Coran. Elisa had hiccups and he was certain she was dying.” 

Keith can’t help but laugh. “It’s been a year, how has he never heard them hiccup before?” 

Allura just shrugs and shakes her head. “It happens almost weekly. He means well and we certainly appreciate the help, but…” She trails off with a fond chuckle. “Anyway, we’re happy to take Kosmo for the week if you end up pulling the trip together. And my class isn’t for another few hours so you’re more than welcome to hide out in my office with me.” 

Keith honestly thinks about kissing her. “I could kiss you,” he says. 

She grins. “I’d rather you didn’t.” 

Keith laughs and follows her to her office. 

Allura’s present to Shiro is always something practical, yet dramatic. One year it was a new office chair with more adjustable knobs than any of the Lions, a heated seat, and extra lumbar support. Another, it was some kind of knife-scissor-cutting board combination tool that would let Shiro chop things one-handed more easily because his arm had been on the fritz but he was determined to learn how to cook. Last year, after watching Shiro lose his new reading glasses (that he hates but Keith secretly adores) for months, she made him a special pair of half-frames with a tracking chip that syncs to his phone every 10 minutes. He still uses it every day. 

This year, Keith has no idea what Allura is getting Shiro for his birthday and he loves her for it. He’s sure whatever it is, it will be something Shiro absolutely loves and uses all the time. They sit in companionable silence, both plugging away at their tablets, occasionally looking up to make some comment or another. It’s so peaceful that Keith almost starts to believe he’s safe. 

The serenity is shattered by Allura’s door whooshing open without so much as a knock. A manic tangle of red hair with one toddler strapped to his chest and the other strapped to his back staggers in. One side of his mustache is curled up and the other is twisted down and Keith isn’t sure if it’s what once was strings of sliced carrot or cheese plastered to his left shoulder, but Coran has definitely looked more refined. 

“I know you said it was perfectly normal for human babies, Princess,” Coran starts with panic in his eyes. Allura hasn’t gotten up from her chair and somehow doesn’t seem alarmed though Coran’s terror has Keith’s blood pressure thumping. 

Allura stands purposefully and reaches out a hand toward the baby in the contraption on Coran’s chest. “That’s because it is perfectly normal, and she’s fine.”

Elisa coos a soft but excited, “mama!” and grabs Allura’s finger. It’s adorable and it makes Keith’s lips twitch upwards despite himself. Her brother is fast asleep on Coran’s back.

A tiny gurgle of air and a high pitched noise squeak past her lips and it’s the cutest thing Keith’s ever heard. Coran looks like he might combust at any moment. Allura is still the picture of calm, happily bouncing her finger for her little girl to play with. 

Elisa hiccups again. Sweat drips down Coran’s brow. 

“It could be the Norflaxian Dendrovirus! This is exactly how it starts!” Coran finally blurts just as Keith starts to become concerned about the ghostly pale shade of green his face is rapidly turning. 

Allura sighs and patiently launches into an explanation about the rate of transmission and how unlikely it would be for Elisa to have come in contact and Keith doesn’t know what she’s saying but she’s saying it very confidently so he’s happy to believe her. Coran still doesn’t seem convinced. There’s a way to be sure but Keith feels a little mean doing it. 

Keith stands up abruptly, jumping towards Coran's chest with his hands up, fingers splayed next to his face. “Boo!” 

Elisa lets out a startled “Eep!” and then giggles and says what passes for “uncle Keith” while reaching her hands out for him. Keith boops her on the nose and sticks out his tongue.

Allura smirks and Coran looks confused. He’s about to say something but Allura holds her finger up and says, “Wait.” 

Coran waits. 

Elisa starts chewing on the edge of her canvas prison. 

A full minute ticks by and she hasn’t hiccuped again.

“Well that just doesn’t make any biological sense,” Coran huffs. 

Keith laughs and Allura joins him. They exchange actual greetings in between Coran’s apologies and repeated mumbles of human physiology being absurd. It’s been a while since Keith’s seen Coran in more than just passing, so it feels good to catch up. Until… 

“Oh by the way!” Many of Coran’s thoughts start this way, so at first Keith isn’t alarmed. “Shiro’s birthday is in a few quintants right?” 

The smile is threatening to fall right off Keith’s face but he manages to keep it plastered on. “Yup.” 

Coran nods and twirls the drooping side of his mustache. “I thought so! He’s impossible to get a gift for ever since that debacle with the nunvil a few deca-phoebs back. Still won't touch even a morsel of my cooking. Have you got any ideas?” 

Keith closes his eyes and imagines the sun rising over the sand dunes deep in the desert where he and Shiro go to get away from everything. “He could really use some new socks.” 

Coran looks delighted. “Oh how exciting! I could make him little lion socks with the ears and a little nose. How many toes do you humans have again? 8?” 

Laughing and shaking his head, Keith corrects him gently. “10. 5 on each foot.” 

“Ah,” Coran says, tapping his chin. “Well that won’t be too big of a problem. Come on children, it’s time your old uncle Coran teaches you some marketable skills!” 

Elisa perks up and shouts, “skills!” in hearty agreement. It’s almost unbearably cute. 

Allura kisses her on the forehead and has Coran turn around so she can lay the gentlest of kisses on her son’s head without waking him up. It’s remarkably easy, the kid sleeps just like his dad and it would take a lot more than a feather-light smooch to get him up. 

“Maybe you should tell Shiro to make a public wishlist in our shared calendar,” Allura suggests as they head to her class. 

Keith sighs. “Thought of that. All he puts on it is socks and that only works on Coran.” 

Allura pats his shoulder in condolence. 

The class goes by quickly, which tends to happen when you’re sparring at break-neck speeds with an almost unfathomably strong alien. Even with Keith’s Galra strength, he’s never been a match for her in an unarmed fight, but they show the students some good moves and holds and she doesn’t beat him up too badly, though his leg still isn't happy about his dash to the trash earlier. He’s still dripping with sweat and sore in places he’s forgotten he has muscles by the time they’re done but it feels good to be tired like this. 

Allura thanks him for his help and asks if he’s on for the same time next month. Keith agrees and they go their separate ways to the locker rooms to clean up. The hot water and soap feel amazing and he spends longer than is strictly necessary just enjoying the peace and quiet. Shiro should be finished with his meeting and home by now and there’s nothing Keith wants more than to fall into his husband’s arms and sleep for at least 10 hours. 

All of the students have long since finished up by the time Keith is dry and clothed again. Most of the instructors and officers have called it a day already, too, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he heads to his quarters. He almost makes it. 

Four doors before his own and Keith sees Iverson walking the opposite direction. Keith nods politely to him as they’re about to pass each other, thinking that will be the end of their interaction because that’s been the case nearly every time they’ve been in the same hallway since the Coalition was formed. 

“Captain Shirogane, do you have a moment?” Iverson’s gruff voice putters out. 

Keith takes a deep breath and tries not to sigh as he lets it out. He wants to go home so badly and he’s so close…

“What can I do for you, Admiral?” 

There’s an uncomfortable pause and Keith is wondering if one of his flight cadets caused another _incident_ when a light pink dust of blush blossoms across Iverson’s face and Keith _knows._

“I was hoping you might be able to provide some insight into what sort of gift Admiral Shirogane might like for his birthday. He’s been an essential asset to the Garrison and the Coalition and I’d hate to snub him.” 

The awkwardness hangs between them and Keith has no idea what to say for the longest 6 seconds of his life until the most brilliant thought he’s ever had strikes him. “A week of unscheduled leave would be nice. Since the infrastructure upgrade is all planned out now, it’d be the perfect time to give him some R&R.” 

Iverson doesn’t quite smile but it’s as close as he gets and Keith knows he's won. He sticks out a hand for Keith to shake and Keith takes it, giving it a quick pump. “I’ll fill out the paperwork tonight and let him know. Thank you.” 

Keith nods again and maybe doesn’t _run_ down the hallway, but he’s definitely not walking. The console that controls the locking mechanism whines in protest as his hand slaps down against it. By the time the door is open Keith is already pulling at his uniform jacket with one hand and belt with the other. 

“Hey baby!” Shiro calls from the kitchen, poking his head around the corner with a bright smile. 

It’s the most beautiful thing Keith’s ever seen. 

“I picked up dinner on the way back, I hope you’re in the mood for pizza!” 

His jacket, belt, and shoes land in a pile next to the door as it closes and he walks into the kitchen with his stomach already gurgling. Before he even thinks about grabbing a slice of the still-steaming pizza sitting in its box on their counter, Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s waist and buries his face in Shiro’s chest. 

Shiro’s heartbeat is a steady thump-thump-thump that somehow melts all of the day’s stress away. 

“Rough day?” Shiro whispers, pressing a kiss into Keith’s still damp hair and wrapping his arms around Keith’s shoulders. 

For a moment, Keith thinks about whining, thinks about telling Shiro about how frustrating his day was, how his leg still aches from hiding behind a trash can and then getting beaten up in front of a bunch of 14 year olds. But that steady rhythm is still thudding against his forehead and he can’t even really remember why he was so annoyed. 

“Better now,” he says quietly, untangling himself and tilting his chin up to press his lips against his husband’s. And it is. 


End file.
